


More Beautiful (Than You Were Yesterday)

by xo_thefirst



Category: EXO (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Feels, Historical, Kinda, M/M, Vampires, idek
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-28
Updated: 2016-07-28
Packaged: 2018-07-27 06:32:15
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,042
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7607470
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/xo_thefirst/pseuds/xo_thefirst
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Yixing and Jongdae’s friendship starts in the Jin dynasty, transforms into love in the twentieth century, and ends with a dream they never expected to have in their very own apartment.</p>
            </blockquote>





	More Beautiful (Than You Were Yesterday)

**Author's Note:**

> originally for xingdaes ♥

It starts with a simple greeting, soft and polite, echoing within the silence of the apartment. There are the jingling of keys, a shuffle of feet, and a confused stare within taking three steps, seeing the various shoes worn from the past lining the wall on racks next to the front door.

The traditional slippers of the Jin dynasty are the first he notices. He was nothing more than an assistant to China’s emperor then, on his way to carry out an errand, when he stumbled upon a foreigner in their kingdom. He remembers seeing colorful silks and intricate designs draped on pale skin, a naturally curled smile on soft lips sent in his direction from across the courtyard, as if inviting him in to come closer. It was a calling of sorts, drawing him in until he recognized the pointed teeth poking out from the foreigner’s upper lip. It should have been a sign, a warning, anything to resist temptation, but it was fruitless in the end. He drowned in the soles of a royal of the Daewon Kingdom.

There are slippers from the remaining dynasties lined up next to that first pair, as if marching in order of conception, and he smiles when he sees the transition from traditional slippers to leather shoes, boots appearing before contemporary tennis shoes and house slippers follow. He walks past them, making his way further into the apartment to see stacks of books that had been kept over the centuries on top of the coffee table. There are three different piles and right on top of the middle stack is the first manuscript the Daewon royal had ever written.

He had stumbled upon him again in Paris, passing through the city to pass the time of the thirteenth century, surprised to find the shorter man reading printed words on paper for the first time in the world’s existence. He had moved closer out of his own will, entranced by long eyelashes fluttering against high cheekbones, and he had stilled when the other looked up, blinking in surprise to see him standing before him. His curled lips had curved up even more in greeting at seeing a familiar face and he had smiled politely in return, a bit timidly perhaps. It was when he properly learned how to read, create manuscripts from his own mind, from the vampire who caught his eye in the kingdom’s courtyard.

The rest of the texts they had collected over the years are first editions of most tragedies and poets, ranging from Shakespeare to Ruzhong, and are inconsequently some of the most valued items they own. He smiles as he runs calloused fingertips over the first manuscript before turning to see the paintings he had learn to create hanging on the walls of the living room and leading into the hallway.

The Renaissance had been a beautiful time for them, where art and music had come to light, and even as vampires, each of them had a talent for it. They were able to showcase hidden talents and he smiles as he remembers beautiful singing, clear notes that cut through the air and struck him in the middle of a large crowd. Always constantly drawn in, he was surprised to find the other in the center of the square, entranced in the way a vampire of all creatures could sing as beautifully as the colors of oils and inks mixed together in a harmony only few could achieve.

His most recent portrait is one of him, the man he kept seeing throughout the centuries without ever staying in the same place for long. It’s the one he had created after a friend told him to keep painting vampires he’s met, in fleeting or in continuous passing, as a way to commemorate each vampire’s life.

He sees the phonograph from the nineteenth century stationed in the spare room, coupled with a record player, piano, and guitar, which they use to replay sounds created throughout their lives. Sometimes, they like to bring out tunes from centuries ago, feeling the grooves of the rotating cylinder before placing it in the machine to play, remembering how at this time, the friendly vampire stumbled upon him creating the tune in the first place, carving grooves into metal. It still amazes them how much technology has improved in two hundred years when they hear pop songs on the radio, even though they have a habit of singing along to each one after learning the lyrics to it.

He stifles a chuckle at the memories as he moves on, coming up to see clothes scattered about on the bedroom floor, as if the other vampire had been searching for something he clearly couldn’t find. He smiles as he remembers when he first played the piano in front of a crowd, wearing the old short lounge coated suit in the early twentieth century after the first World War. He remembers scanning the crowd, only to look again minutes later, and find him staring back, seemingly entranced. The royal vampire hadn’t blinked once, but he had seen the flash of crimson pass through the other’s eyes, the delayed exhalation of air from his lungs. They still had to keep up appearances as humans to prevent suspicion, having escaped the recent vampire scare and purge, but this could’ve come close. It was then he had noticed the emotion of desire within the other vampire, had seen the way he kept his distance unlike personally greeting him like the previous times.

He smiles as he shakes his head of his thoughts, trying to remove thoughts of pale skin moving underneath his own, chest heaving out of habit since centuries ago, panting his name. The thoughts eventually leave him as he starts to clean the room, humming, as he puts back traditional silk robes and waist vests back into their closet.

 

It’s the scent of fresh blood that alerts him, looking up from reading the first manuscript and sniffing the air around him. The smells of old book pages and dust fill his nostrils, but then he catches the scent of fresh blood and citrus before the front door opens and the other vampire comes in whistling a tune. He smiles when he recognizes it as the first tune he created by hand on metal.

“Yixing?” he calls, whistling gone, “You haven’t eaten yet.”

It’s more of a statement than a question, but Yixing hums anyways before responding. “Of course not, Jongdae.” He smiles when he finally sees him walking through the small foyer, medical scrubs loose on his entire frame. “I don’t need to eat for another two days.”

Jongdae hums in return, noncommittally, as he walks towards him and simply discards of his scrubs on the way, dropping the articles of clothing onto the floor until he’s only left in his boxers. He’s smiling down at Yixing like he’s the most precious person in the world and Yixing feels something inside him flop at the sight. “I had fresh blood today,” Jongdae announces, even though Yixing can clearly tell already. “Have some.”

Yixing doesn’t say much as he moves the book to the table, stretching out on their vintage loveseat to accommodate Jongdae on his lap. A strong thigh rests on either side of his hips and Yixing feels a pull in his dead heart when Jongdae leans in close to loop arms around his neck, Yixing’s hands settling on his bare waist. It doesn’t take much for Jongdae to tilt his head to the side, showcasing a faint scar of bite marks, and Yixing can’t help licking at the spot possessively, can’t help feeling the pull tug stronger within him.

Jongdae shudders against him, the scars perpetually sensitive to Yixing’s touch, and Yixing smiles as he noses along the vein beating steadily in his neck before his teeth elongate and crimson bleeds into his irises. He doesn’t bite, not yet anyways, and he waits until he feels Jongdae shudder again, whining low in his throat, always having the most beautiful of sounds falling from his lips.

“You’ve brought out every piece of memory while I was gone,” Yixing murmurs against him, bottom lip brushing along his skin. He presses down the slightest bit, pulling a softer moan from his vampire’s mouth. “Is there another anniversary I happened to forget? You know after centuries, I still forget the important dates.”

“But you remember the important events,” Jongdae whispers in response, arms curling until he can get fingers threaded through Yixing’s hair and pull gently. “Don’t tease.”

“When you offer yourself like this, how can I not?” Yixing smiles as Jongdae releases another whine, although this happens more often than not nowadays. He drags a fang up to the area beneath Jongdae’s ear to kiss before slowly dragging it back down, grazing over his mark, and down to the top of Jongdae’s shoulder. “Shall I bring you to the bedroom?”

Jongdae groans in frustration, fingers tightening even more in Yixing’s hair. “Shall I bring you to your grave?”

The comeback has Yixing laughing as he easily picks up Jongdae and speeds to their room, barely hearing the papers from the books whip up from the sudden gust of air and settle again. “Then we would need to return to China, my love.” He gently sits Jongdae on the bed, before taking a step back to rid himself of his shirt, while the other scoots back on the bed.

Jongdae looks stunning when he’s recently fed on fresh blood, the faintest of pinks tinting his cheeks, and it brings Yixing back to the time during the Korean War where he saw the most color return to Jongdae’s face, driving the whitest of colors away.

“You’re not going to make me wait, are you?” Jongdae deadpans, giving him an unimpressed look as Yixing takes off his pants as well. “Why are you getting naked?”

“Why are you getting hard?” Yixing fires back, corner of his lips tilting up into a smirk as he eyes the tent forming in Jongdae’s boxers already. He laughs as Jongdae rolls his eyes, returning to hover over the smaller vampire within seconds, before he’s leaning down to press a kiss to his forehead. He kisses Jongdae’s cheeks and nose next before bypassing his lips altogether to kiss his neck, settling himself down comfortably between Jongdae’s spread legs.

An involuntary moan escapes Jongdae’s lips at the added weight and he reaches up to try and tug Yixing’s lips back to his own with fingers tangled through his hair. “You’re teasing today.”

“I’m not.”

“Yixing,” Jongdae whines, tugging harder on Yixing’s hair. “Kiss me, you idiot.”

This kiss reminds Yixing of their kiss in the twentieth century, one that caused fireworks to explode behind closed lids, that caused their skin to tingle with a foreign sensation and filled their bodies with more life than blood could give them. It makes them smile into the kiss, Yixing slowly licking his way into Jongdae’s mouth, and they groan in unison when Yixing instinctively rolls his hips down.

Drinking each other’s blood has always been intimate to them, never having drunken from another vampire before each other, and it’s no different now when Yixing moves down, down, down to mouth the inside of Jongdae’s right thigh. Jongdae’s boxers are long gone, tossing the bottle of lube for Yixing to catch with ease, and he moans when Yixing slowly inserts a lubed finger into him.

It never takes long to work Jongdae up, having spent decades mapping each other’s bodies and knowing what makes the other simmer or burst, but it’s when Yixing has three fingers working in and out of him fluidly does his teeth elongate again, fangs grazing the same spot on Jongdae’s inner right thigh. “Love,” he simply calls before he feels Jongdae clench around his fingers in response.

It’s the only sign Yixing needs to sink his teeth into Jongdae’s thigh, moving with him gently when he moans loud and arches his back against the bed. The blood has significantly cooled since Jongdae first drank it but it tastes delicious flowing into Yixing’s mouth and down his throat. It gives him renewed energy the longer he drinks from his love, his hips rocking down into the bed as he works his fingers faster inside Jongdae.

When Yixing feels a pat on his head, he hums, slowly removing his teeth from Jongdae’s flesh to lick the wounds clean. They close quickly, Yixing moving in to nuzzle his cheek against it affectionately, before he’s pulling his fingers out and Jongdae is groaning, clenching around nothing. “Yixing, please.”

“I’m coming,” Yixing mutters out quickly, a low growl lacing the edges of his words.

“You better damn _not_ be coming,” Jongdae hisses back, using a foot to kick Yixing lightly.

It makes Yixing laugh, growling playfully in turn, but he speeds up, quickly slicking himself up with lube before he’s positioning himself and pushing in slowly. He buries himself to the hilt, groaning when he can feel Jongdae instinctively tighten around him, before he’s pulling out until the tip is keeping Jongdae open.

Yixing watches him, waits until Jongdae opens his eyes to stare back at him, before he thrusts back in quick and deep. A moan fall from Jongdae’s lips at the action as he scrambles to reach up and wrap arms underneath Yixing’s shoulders, nails scratching at pale skin trying to hold on. He keeps his steady pace, entranced with the beauty that is solely Jongdae in front of him, and he remembers years spent seeing each other in the most important moments in history, never failing to greet each other and spend the day exploring new inventions.

He groans when he feels Jongdae’s fangs grazing the skin of his neck, pulling him down to get close enough, and Yixing’s pace fastens in anticipation. His neck has always been sensitive even before he was turned and he knows Jongdae uses it to his advantage to spur him on, to thrust faster and harder until he’s being shunted up the bed by force.

Yixing’s hand leaves the back of Jongdae’s thigh to trail a path up his stomach, ignoring Jongdae’s leaking cock to find a dark nipple, circling it with rough fingers before he’s pinching and twisting. It causes a louder moan to escape before Jongdae is biting down, causing Yixing to gasp and thrust his hips erratically against him.

It doesn’t take long for Yixing to come at the sensation, eyes closing and mouth falling open as his hips jerk and he urges Jongdae to touch himself. Jongdae does so quickly, hand moving up and down frantically between them, and then he’s moaning against Yixing’s neck and coming, a burst of passion and pleasure suddenly coursing through their veins when they’re connected like this.

They take their time coming down from their highs, Jongdae slowly removing his teeth from Yixing’s neck, and Yixing hums, pleased, as he feels Jongdae lick over the new bite marks with care and affection, almost apologetically with how hard he had bit down when he had come. But it doesn’t matter to him. Vampires are strong creatures. They can withstand the harshest of attacks and dirtiest of tricks.

“I was looking for the one photograph of us,” Jongdae murmurs in the silence of their room, letting himself be moved as Yixing needs to clean him up. His eyes gleam crimson in the evening but he looks infinitely pleased, curled lips curling just that bit more. “The one from the land camera of the twentieth century.”

Bright flashes that appeared as lightning pop up in Yixing’s mind, stilling briefly as he clearly remembers where that photograph was last seen. He smiles to himself, looking up to see Jongdae looking at him confused, before he disappears and searches for the picture in one of the ancient stacks of paper bound by twine in one of their bookcases.

Dates from the twelfth century line the page and Yixing flips through it until he finds the photograph stuck between yellowed pages, smiling wider to himself, as he picks it up and gingerly places the stack of papers back on the shelf. He speeds back to Jongdae after to see him still waiting in bed for him. He watches him curiously as Yixing walks towards him, holding the photo up in hand.

Jongdae’s eyes widen upon seeing it and Yixing chuckles fondly as the other reaches out for it, gently holding the piece of paper as if it’s some lost long treasure. “It’s the only picture ever captured of us,” Jongdae whispers, almost reverently, as he stares at it with affection. The buildings of New York City act as the backdrop within the photograph with Yixing and Jongdae’s back turned towards the camera. It had been an experiment at the time, but as they were turning to face each other, the camera had clicked and only their necks and ears along with their entire bodies can be seen, hints of smiles on their faces if they squinted hard enough. Their eyes can’t be seen but they had guessed that was the trick to appearing in photographs. Jongdae smiles as he traces fingertips over it before looking up to Yixing. “Where did you keep it?”

Smiling, Yixing hums as he climbs back into bed with him, pulling Jongdae in close with an arm wrapped around his shoulders. “In the stack of papers I was carrying when I first caught sight of you.”

“Such a romantic,” Jongdae teases, even if he’s laughing, reaching up to nip Yixing’s ear playfully. “Who knew?”

“You’re the one who seduced me,” Yixing simply says, trying to stifle his own laughter, snapping his own teeth back at him for fun. “Besides, you’re the romantic one.”

Jongdae doesn’t even argue back, smiling widely as he leans in to kiss him again.

With their rare ending, it ends with a simple kiss, soft and sweet, as calloused fingers curl under a chin to guide back home. They don’t murmur whispers of ‘I love you,’ there’s no need, especially when Jongdae had ask Yixing to be his a century ago and Yixing’s positive he’s always been Jongdae’s since the beginning of time.


End file.
